Heavens for Deludes
by Min Daae
Summary: Dexter observes Deb having a little problem, and determines to solve it. Harry isn't pleased. Set sometime during high school years.


_People notice bullies, _Harry said.

Harry was right, like he was about a lot of other things. _I _notice bullies. Sometimes because I want to tell them to stop pretending to be like me. Most of them would piss their pants if they actually saw a dead body.

Some of them I notice because they're bothering my sister.

Most of the time, Deb can take care of herself. She's Harry's daughter, after all. I'm not the only one taking martial arts. But lately she seems to be having problems with a couple boys who think her new breasts make her harmless, and for some reason she's not kicking them in the face. Maybe she's self-conscious, or something. I freely admit I don't know anything about girls, even – _especially – _the ones related to me.

I'm supposed to be reading my book on forensics. I can catch some of what they're saying from there. "That…cup or D-cup?"

Sexual harassment, one count. I like to keep track of these things.

Deb glares at him, but she's crossed her arms over her chest, too. Uh-oh. Weakness. "Don't…honest. Are those…"

Two counts. My boy is getting good at this. He probably has plenty of practice. "Don't be a perv," Deb says, but she looks sideways saying it. Come on, Deb. Kick him in the balls.

"Can…touch?"

If I were a good brother, I would go down right now and beat the shit out of him. Instead, I'm just memorizing his face. _Rule one, _Harry reminds me. _Don't get caught. _It's too bad for Deb, I think, that I'm not a particularly good brother.

"Come on…once?"

I'm almost disappointed in Deb that she's not giving this fucker what he deserves. But that's all right. Little brother Dex will take care of it. Later. When Deb's not watching. And she'll never know I did it.

But that's the way it has to be, isn't it? Harry told me that, too. _You can't be a hero, Dex. It doesn't work that way. _As far as Deb knows, I'm harmless, and it had better stay that way. She turns around, starts walking toward the bus, back stiff as a board. She sees me sitting there watching and the look she gives me is so full of betrayal it almost hurts.

Almost.

She'll get over it in a few days. And I'll make sure the jackals tagging after her nipping at her heels don't bother her again.

~.~

Every day at 12 o' clock sharp, right before lunch, Peter Winslow, three counts of sexual harassment at least, goes to the bathroom. He stays there for twenty minutes and then wanders outside to meet his buddies. I can work with twenty minutes.

It'll be good to finally use a little of what I've been learning.

He wanders in right on time, scratching his crotch, and doesn't give me a second look. I'm doing the world a favor here, probably. Who knows what his little boob jokes will turn into if someone doesn't make sure he stops?

Not that I'm looking forward to this or anything. Not at all.

It is pretty satisfying though, to catch his head just in the right place and crack it into the side of the bathroom stall. Harry's right; if you get the right spot they don't even scream once.

I drag him into handicapped and close the door. I was never in the Boy Scouts but I know the motto – always be prepared. For me today that means a roll of duct tape and a Swiss Army Knife. Nothing too serious.

I should be good for at least ten. No one ever comes in here. And Peter is already waking up, and wriggling like a fish. I look down at him and grin. "You know," I inform him, "This is kind of a big deal. It's my first time ever actually trying this out."

Yes, he's definitely scared now. I drop to a crouch over his legs and lean forward. "I think I like you better like this. You're definitely a lot quieter. But the main thing is…" I tickle the knife under his chin. "You're really starting to be a problem." I'm pretty sure he won't scream now, so I yank off the duct tape.

An acrid smell fills the stall. Damn, he pissed his pants. I wasn't expecting that. "I didn't do anything to you, man! What the-"

"Not to me," I cut him off. "My sister. I think you've been less than polite to her, and you know – she's a lady. She deserves better."

"I didn't-" I know where to punch him so it won't leave a mark, but it'll still hurt. He wheezes in a very satisfying way, unable to scream. I let him gasp a little before he can ask another question. "Did she put you up to this?"

"She doesn't have to." I grin. "Baby brother Dexter always takes care of his own."

He whimpers, faintly. I guess I got my smile wrong. I don't feel too sorry for him. "You're a psycho," he says.

"Yes," I agree casually, "I am." I lean forward, and he leans back, head bumping against the toilet bowl. "And if you mess with my sister again, a visit to the vice principal isn't going to be the worst of your worries. I'm _really _good at what I do. And I've been waiting for so long for someone to practice on." I stand up. "Are we clear?"

The terror in his eyes and the stink of his pants is answer enough. I turn around. "Wait!" he says, hoarsely. "Aren't you going to let me go?"

"Right," I say, turning around. "I forgot."

I slash through the duct tape around his wrists close enough that he whimpers. Then I leave.

I toss the Army knife in the dumpster on my way out.

~.~

He goes to the school, of course, and they can't believe it – not _Dexter. _There's no knife on my person. No duct tape in my backpack. And when they ask if I ever had a problem with Peter, I smile and shake my head and say 'no, miss, I haven't had a single problem with him. I hardly even know his name.'

They let me go home scot-free, and I can almost feel Peter staring at my back. He knows, now, but he won't make the mistake of telling anyone. And he'll definitely stay away from Deb.

I didn't count on them calling Harry.

He's waiting in the door when I get home. "Deb's out with your mother," he says, tersely, and I can tell from his face right away that something's wrong. "Come inside, Dex. I need to talk to you."

It takes him about a second once the door's closed to start. "You're lucky your mother didn't pick up the message," he says, sharply. "That you'd been accused of assaulting a classmate? She already-"

"Thinks I'm a freak, yeah, I know." I'm still drunk on my success. I got away with it. I got _away _with it.

"Dexter," he says, voice like iron. "Take this seriously. What happened? Is it true?"

I look up. "He was bothering Deb," I say. "I decided he needed to stop. I didn't hurt him. Not really."

"Did he kill anyone?"

I blink a little. "No, I guess not."

"Dexter," Harry says, and this time I can hear the anger vibrating in his voice, "What did I teach you? What have you _learned _from what I taught you! Rule number one: _don't get caught, _and what do you do? You _attack _an _innocent _boy on school grounds – you're lucky you weren't suspended, you're lucky you weren't expelled – this could have gone on your permanent record! _I didn't teach you to let you become a bully, _Dexter!"

I'm surprised that he's so angry, and draw back a little, worried. "It was for Deb-"

"Don't say that," he snaps. "It wasn't for your sister. It was because you wanted to. You need to _control yourself, _Dex, _control yourself _or goddammit you'll end up dead and I won't be able to help you!"

"I didn't-"

"People _remember _that kind of thing. People remember even that kind of accusation. You need to be inconspicuous, I told you. Inconspicuous means that you don't do anything that anyone remembers. _Anything. _And particularly not something like this! And particularly not to a boy who doesn't deserve it!"

"You didn't hear what he was saying to Debra-"

"If you were normal," Harry says, savagely, "You would say that kind of thing to girls, too."

It really shouldn't sting anymore when Dad says that. If you were normal. I look down, grudgingly, my pride turning sour in my mouth. "I was careful," I say, mutinously. "I didn't leave anything. They all believed me. They all thought he was trying to get me in trouble for some reason."

Harry takes my face between his hands, turns my eyes up to look at him. "Listen to me, Dex," he says, serious now, but not angry. Just tired. "You can't do things like this. Not for people you know. It can't be personal; it can never be personal. Police notice that kind of thing."

I nod, solemnly, and hesitate. "Not even for Deb?"

He hesitates too, and breathes in, shakes his head. "Not even for Deb," he agrees. "She can take care of herself."

~.~

_I have to put you down. For the sake of my sister. _

Harry said I couldn't do this. Crouching in the corner and crying for the first time in my life, I think maybe this is why.

But he was still wrong. Some personal things there's just no avoiding. Some personal things aren't worth the cost of letting it go. "Better me than a stranger," I tell my dead brother, but he's not listening anymore.

And neither am I.


End file.
